


like father, like son

by PersonifiedWeirdness



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Floris | Fundy, idk man I’m weirdly attracted to villain characters in a a character sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonifiedWeirdness/pseuds/PersonifiedWeirdness
Summary: after that bit of breakdown from fundy, dream opted to distract himself from the storm of emotions and back to the cold monster he is.and through the fire of hatred and loathing in fundy’s eyes, he sees potential.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Mentioned), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (mentioned)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	like father, like son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [true_weak_lincs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/true_weak_lincs/gifts).



> hi! my friend posted a villain!fundy fic with fwt as the main focus, and i was like hmm,,, wh, what if,,,, v-villain dream too-
> 
> so, enjoy this short fic that i wrote cause i’m bored with little to no internet!
> 
> check out the original fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314012

Dream stood there for who knew how long. Long enough for the sky to turn warm and red. He took struggle in freeing his feet from the earth’s grasp, the metaphorical chain weighing down on each step he took. But he knew he’d rather be dead than caught standing there, idly. 

Times like this are when Dream’s glad he has his mask. Simple and usually comical it is, it’s gained a somewhat intimidating effect now.

Sure, he had the air of the terrifying, detached person he is, but it was because he forced himself to frame him that way. His body had been used to the way he held himself, proud and high, that his face was the last way he could ever express himself. Not that he wanted to, the person he once was, the kind, caring Dream, is dead (or so he likes to think).

But it’s these moments where his body felt ever so slightly frigid, his chest tightening until he could hear his heartbeat.

He’s human, he’s reminded, though he’d rather not have been.

His posture remained cold and rigid, while the face underneath his mask was distraught. Brows knitted, lips closed tightly, and his eyes that seemed to look thousands of miles away to something long-lost. Green eyes casts themselves to the ground, though he held his head up high. A small part of him, the one who clung to the remains of his humanity, knew he regret what he did. Though he knew exactly what he was doing, too.

Never did he have an attraction to Fundy, at least not as intense as with George. Admiration, yes, to say that the man isn’t skilled would be slander to the things he's achieved. His machinations were wondrous, and perhaps that was what Dream had been interested in, not him as a person.

Although his chase for George would be useless too, he knew. Sapnap has already seen how his once-dear best friend had turned to the ruthless monster he is, and it wouldn't take George horribly long as well. Yes, he'd shown special interest in him (with what making him king and starting a war for him and whatnot), but that was more of shallow attempts made by the leftovers of the person Dream once was.

… But that doesn’t matter now. Dwelling on emotions will only bring him down.

Slowly, his mind shifted from the swamps of dread and regret and back to the cold mechanical gears, working smoothly in intense calculation. Little did he realize his expression remained the same.

His mind flickered to the look Fundy had in his eyes. He recognized it, he’s seen it in person before this. The bright red anger, the twinge of insanity, losing faith but most importantly, losing one's self.

Wilbur.

He still remembers, standing before him, TNT in hand. He’d lost a part of him at the time, but just enough of mind to be as calculative as he was. That’s what made him the perfect weapon.

_And maybe, just maybe…_

He opened his inventory. Flitting through all the items, a particular one shone, catching his eyes. The ring. Memories of Fundy proposing to him flashes, to which he blinks away. He reaches for the small thing, holding it between his index and middle finger. The diamond on it shines as he brings it up, and through the hole, he sees the TNT perfectly framed. 

After all, Tubbo said only _Tommy_ couldn’t be the next Wilbur.

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven’t, check out the original fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314012


End file.
